The barmaid returned with a plate of thick sliced roast beef, and dark bread, a bowl of potato soup." This'll have to do, 'fraid the Kitchen doesn't keep a menu. It's take it or leave it."
    She slid a second plate in front of Alisdair with a smile and and a wink, making a motion as if she were collecting coins from the counter as the bartender turend around for a moment. Her smile lingering as she fussed with some glasses behind the counter.

  " If your looking for the job, Yeah, I reckon he's not filed up his team yet. the idea of a babysitting job for a robe and some students don't appeal much to most folk." The barman shrugged and seemed to miss any of the importance of Alisdair's summary.

---

The number of blank looks followed by turning back to their conversations and drinks was impressive. No one volunteered any information or looked as if they were willing to direct Za'ha'na in the direction of someone who might have it.
  The only one who seemed to be sharing information was the barman who was sharing some information with two of the patrons.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:08, Tue 24 Jan 2012.

Zi’ha’na was momentarily confused.  The question seemed straight forward enough.  Perhaps they didn’t understand the nature of the question.  Perhaps there was some prohibition against talking to those who are eating.  He assessed the situation and moved closer to the barkeep.  Waiting for the two who are eating to put food in their mouth he spoke to the barman directly.  Repeating the question he moderated it slightly, “I see you are not eating, “ a brief pause before he added “Sir.”   Hopefully gaining his attention with this line of address he continued.  “Do you know of a collector name Leoth Rosh?”

  "I don't get paid to eat, and Rosh never heard of him." The bartender replied and then waited as if he were expected something." You want something to drink or just asking questions?"

  " Leo, don't be so rude." The bairmaid slapped him on the shoulder yet again." If your looking for a collector You might want to talk to Simon up on the third floor. He's the one who brokers most of the sales that come through here. But you might be out luck, If it's Lord Rosh He had a bit of an accident last month. Seems he accidently walked in front of a bullet.
    Sad really Lady Rosh was awful tore up by it. She ain't seen nobody since her Lord died. just sets in her house and cries all day, such a pity for a young girl to be widowed so soon after the wedding."

“Just questions,” Zi’ha’na responds to the barman before the lady addresses him.  “Lord Rosh is dead?  Are there many Rosh’s in the city?  Irrelevant, you suggest the third floor, I will go there first.” He begins to turn and then stops and turns back to the barmaid. “Your assistance is appreciated,” he says and turns to leave.  Death was an annoying obstacle.  He heads up to the third floor looking for Simon.

  The third floor was mostly set aside for classrooms and metting halls. a few offices and a pair of labs set at the end of the hall. One is marked as Conservetor Simon Rhyes an older J'nik sprting a colorful sash many pouches sets on a raised perch that overlooks a table where a selection of artifacts and pieces of pottery lay for examination. A Human is carefully brushing away dust and dirt from an odd looking staff with a multi lensesd contraption worn about his head and face.

Zi’ha’na moves towards the J’nik overlooking the artifacts and scans them briefly before looking up and asking “I am looking for Conservator Simon Rhyes.   I am to understand he knows about some masks sold to Leoth Rosh.”

Stark thanked the barmaid for the meal, it was just what he was looking for and he dug in heartily. He'd go off and see this robe after he'd eaten. "Bess", as he fondly referred to his vanship, was always in need of fuel and a part or three and seemed to swallow his spare money with regular avarice. On the way he could stop by the local courier chapter to see what commissions were available.

He raised an eyebrow at the strange, emotionless man who was directed upstairs. They got all kinds in these traveller houses...

Alisdair stared at the plate in-front of him in surprise for a second - the barmaid's smile had caught him rather off-balance - then picked up his spoon and began to eat. Though he was ravenously hungry he tried to keep a civilised pace. He looked over briefly as the blue-eyed stranger questioned the barman; the man (he assumed, he couldn't rightly tell species) had an odd way of talking, but no more so than most people you came across in places like this. He turned his attention back to the older man who, with any luck, he'd be working with. He seemed a steady enough sort, unlikely to flap in a bind, probably quite predictable, very reliable. The kind of person he liked to be around, because they made planning so much easier.
He turned to the barman again with a shrug, putting his spoon down for a second "While the job isn't too appealing, I'll take it if he's willing to pay. Babysitting is better than sitting around here spending my last coins."
He picked up his cutlery again, and began muttering to himself as he mentally counted off the ammunition and chemicals he might need, and how much money he had left. He might have to ask for a little cash in advance.

  " I'd be Simon." The human spoke up, moving to close the door behind Za'na'ha." can I ask who you are and who you are speaking for?" The man asked his hands ringing slightly casting a furtive look the the J'nik who hopped off his perch and hopped to the desk where he stood with his hand just under the lip of the desk.

Noting that twice now the young man had metioned money and was glacing at the meal with hunger, he realized he was probably short on cash. There was a lot of that these days it seemed. He nodded to the barmaid/bartender and said, "Put the boys meal on my tab, too." He knew that the chapter house comp'd his meals and board whenever he finished a delivery on time. As long as he didn't abuse it, they'd probably overlook the extra meal if it was even recorded. Besides, if they ended up working together, he'd rather get things off on a good footing even if he was a bit doubtful that the job would be up his alley.

He picked up his whiskey and raised his glass to the boy. "Clear skies," he toasted.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:32, Tue 24 Jan 2012.

Zi’ha’na looks at Simon and asses the man’s stance.  Nervous and cautious.  He considered his own stance and equipment.  Perhaps the man was threatened by the J’nik.  He looked at the J’nik, and couldn’t see what the problem was.  Returning his attention to Simon he began “I am Zi’ha’na” the name comes out in a trill and a pop “and I am an archeologist recently returned.  In my recent studies I have come upon an interest in a recent expedition and I understand that some art was recovered.  I wish to examine these pieces or find exact drawings of them to analyze.” He considers the man’s comment again and continues “I am speaking myself, not another’s words.”

  "Ah, a man of learning." Simon relaxed visibly." those cursed things have caused me nothing but trouble the past few weeks."
  The last fellow wasn't too happy when I asked a few innocent questions and broke a fourth dynasty H'rau funerary urn."
   I don't suppose you would know how rare those are? only a few have ever been found."
>

---

Leo looked at the plate the woman had set out. " Suit yourself.. The Botany department is over in the Other side of the gardens Third tier Bright street. Can't miss it. Big building, lots of glass and flowers."

the Bartender seemed to loose interest int he pair now that they were tallking about taking the job. and likely to be leaving the bar.  The young woman helping him still sat cleaning the same spot in the counter as she smiled at Alisdair.

Zi’ha’na processed the man’s comments before he began speaking.  “You would be correct that a fourth dynasty urn would be exceedingly rare were such a thing to exist, for it would prove the dynasty had prolifered far past the known and acknowledged two H’rau dynasties.  Its destruction would be on a level of irreparable devastation to the field.  If you still have the fragments of the urn I would be interested in seeing it to verify its authenticity.” As the man’s expressions change Zi changes his comments, “if that will not be necessary then we can continue with the previous inquiries.  Why would such items cause any kind of trouble?  They are inert items incapable of movement and so should not be able to cause problems themselves.”

  "That would be an accurate estimation." Simon motioned the j'nik back to wok removing his optics." For about three weeks now every mothers son with an eye for a quick coin has been wandering in here wanting to know who I sold those masks to, and for. "

  "seems someone is spreading rumors that someone is looking to get there hands on those masks and are willing to pay a queen's ransom for them. Even a few whispers that Lord Rosh met his end because he wouldn't part with them."

  "Some of them said they were scholars, others said they were speaking for a broker or some anonymous buyer. one even said he was working for the Imperial Mekot Museum of culture....he was dressed fancy enough but there isn't any Museum of culture.

Zi’ha’na considers what Simon has to say.  “I care not buy them, I wish only to examine them.  The buyer is listed in the archives should anyone need to know who has them now, they need only do the research.  Can you tell me anything about them?  Are they of Ashantii origin?  Have you any drawings or replica’s of the masks?”  Zi’ha’na is focused on the details he draw out from Simon.

Alisdair had once been told, he couldn't remember when now, not to look a gift horse in the mouth; but life had taught him to accept no gifts without a full cavity search. He stopped eating immediately, looking at the man with surprise, mixed with just the faintest hint of suspicion. He would have stopped eating entirely, but he was too hungry, and he'd eaten enough for anything laced into it to have already had effect. He couldn't feel anything changing, and the pilot didn't look like the type to poison someone, and he couldn't think of any reason why these people would want him dead.

But the barmaid had been smiling at him since she had seen him. It suddenly occurred to him that the bounty notices might have already reached this far, though he doubted it, but her smile wasn't a bounty hunter's - he'd seen them frequently enough, often through gunsights, to recognise them on sight - she looked almost as if she was happy just to see him. He couldn't think of any possible reason why she would be; people generally weren't happy to see him at all, but that went with the territory.

He took a long, slow breath. Maybe he was just being a little too paranoid, maybe they were actually being kind, and he was going to get work soon, he could pay them back when the pay-check came through from this job.

"T-thank you, I'll repay you as soon as I have the money."

He turned back to his meal, still conscious of the barmaid's eyes on him, and went back to categorising what ammo he had left, and working out a small wish list of chemicals that he would ask their employer to supply.

Stark chuckled and said, "Don't worry about it, kid. I just finished a commission and I'm feeling generous."

He leaned over closer so that only Valentine could hear, "Besides, the chapter house always comps my meals after I deliver a commision for them. One more shouldn't put any noses out of joint. I think I'll take my meal over to the window so you can get to know our friendly barmaid a little better. I believe she's interested in getting to know you. You know what they say, strike while the iron is hot..."

He nodded to the barmaid and bartender. Picked up his meal and drink and headed for a window seat where someone had left their paper. He sat and immediately turned his attention to the latest news and the rest of his food.

  " You;d think so." Simon sighed. But no, they come up here and try to bribe, intimidate, and trick me into telling them some dark secret like this was one of those dreadful Serials. Never mind that all the records are right there in the files."
  "About all I can tell you nit in the records is that His son is Lord Rosh''s executor. He has all the belongings and papers his father might have had."

  " nwauk.Lucas Rosh. Mkiik ." The J'nik supplied the name." Senior studetn of the acadamy of siciences he is. Mkiik. Botanist, likely tending the Rastima Nevilanthis.Mkiik. He is not fond of those who wish to plunder his fathers legacy, be polite.Mkiik.Struck the last one who treid to secure the masks he did.Mkiik.Nwuak"

" Thank you Nwauk." Simon wrote down an adress and offered it to Za'na'ha. " I suppose if you are a scholar, you arent up to anything to too sordid."

“No, my interest is only in the artifacts of antiquity.  I am not convinced the masks are even of interest, but must be examined before being discarded as irrelevant.  Proper procedure is to be followed to verify authenticity.” Zi’ha’na begins to leave before stopping and turning back.   “It is appropriate to offer my services for your assistance.  I specialize in deciphering scripts, symbols, and other cryptography and may be useful in your research.  If my skills are needed by you please contact me.  I can usually be found here in the brotherhood when not on site.”    With that Zi reads the note and begins to move in the direction of the academy.

  " I appreciate the offer. Most of our services are in preservation and restoratio of more mundane artifacts that happen to be rbrought in." Simon seemed interested in Zi'na'ha's offer. " I'll admit my linguistics are a bit spotty.And J'nik here is mostly my understudy, he's more of a hands on sort....well that and he has memorized the entire contents of half a dozen text books.
  "If anyone here needs someone to translate, or decypher, any materials I'll try to remmber to introduce them to you."

Zi looks back at the man and nods at his comment before leaving.  He makes his way to the exit and onto the streets on the way to the academy.  Stopping he recalls the board had a posting about botany and goes back to read the details regarding it to see if it is the same individual.

"The barmaid? Is she interested in hiring?" The man walked away before he could get an answer. Strike while the iron is hot? The hell was he talking about? He was acting as if the woman was showing affection for him. And that didn't happen. Not to him.

If it he was dealing with triffids he'd probably want some incendiary weapons on hand. Chemical weaponry would probably do, at least to begin with, which meant that he could do it with base ingredients; the odd Molotov or two never went awry, and they were ever so simple to make. He could probably spend a little time making ammunition as well, it might be cheaper than buying it, and the rounds needed for the elephant gun were expensive.

Stark peered over at the hopeful barmaid and hopeless young Valentine. He hoped he wasn't that clueless when he was young... but such thoughts... no he hadn't been. He finished his whiskey in one swallow, letting burn it down his throat. He'd tried to make it burn out his memories once but that hadn't worked out either. He glanced out the window as his eyes misted over. His Miri would only be a year or three younger than that barmaid. It was provident that he'd nearly fininshed his meal as he now found he had lost his appetite.

He tossed the paper and went out to see if there were any courier commissions before he headed over to see the scientist. He tossed a couple of coins on the table by way of tip as he left.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:47, Thu 26 Jan 2012.

  " ya might want to catch up to your freind if you want that job." Leo muttered gruffly and jerked his head after Stark." Ya can't make coin setting on my barstool."

Valentine nodded, finished up his meal quickly, bowed to the barman and the maid, and left to find his employer.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:28, Fri 27 Jan 2012.